


The Break-In

by Lupinshealer



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Friendship, Gen, Humor, Pre Reichenbach, unexpected
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-18
Updated: 2013-07-21
Packaged: 2017-12-12 06:01:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 9
Words: 9,092
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/808126
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupinshealer/pseuds/Lupinshealer
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"This is maddening! This is outrageously unexplainable!" shouts Sherlock, for the hundreth time about the mysterious break-in where nothing was taken. Has he finally met his match?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Murder is BORING

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lupinshealer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lupinshealer/gifts).



> This isn't actually written by me but by my sister so all compliments go to her. Also all is not was you expect 'Evil laugh'.

« So what, I ask again, can we deduce John?”

Watson tried ignoring the impatience pouring out of every syllable. He knelt down, sniffed the air a little, right above the stomach, offering the very first traces of decomposition, still overlaid by a more pungent, coarse perf…

“ No, don’t do it like that, you look like a frog in copulating season… Isn’t it obvious to you all? Anyone? Anyone offering even the slightest insight on why any of you possesses what can remotely be called a brain?  
\- Sherlock, I wasn’t fini…  
\- Oh, why even bother! First, fingers have you noticed the roughness?  
\- I…  
\- No, of course you hadn’t! Those are the fingers of a man working manually every day, yet their tip...  
\- What is…  
\- What is wrong with their tip you’re going to say? Oh I don’t know, maybe just the fact that his finger’s tip are flattened, like someone working on a keyboard all day. Yet, how could anyone work on a keyboard and still work manually? Of course, the question wouldn’t even be asked in a society where anyone but myself could multitask brilliantly; but as such is not the case, the writing is either a hobby or a job. Now, which one is it? You will notice his clothes, very…”

Sherlock kept jumping around the cadaver, raising hands and pointing hair and speaking in that superiorly smug voice of his that made it impossible to follow his reasoning. John and Lestrade caught a few key words that allowed them to follow his deductions, but the truth was, they didn’t even bother trying to object anymore, what Sherlock said had become law. 

“… and so it is obvious that this man was daily beaten by his partner, his wife most probably as I pointed it out to you earlier, and that this time she went a little too far.” 

The usual admiring silence during which Watson, a little mortified by the previous treatment, kept wondering as he always did how on Earth he had missed all this. Everything was so logical and obvious. He sighed, one of these days, someone was going to shoot Sherlock, that was as inevitable a deduction as any. 

\- Puah!” laughed Anderson mockingly “You expect us to believe that this guy” he pointed to the chubby form laying motionlessly, looking like a giant puppet “was beaten up by his wife?!”

Sherlock’s head snapped towards Anderson and locked eyes with him. 

Oh no, there they go again.” Thought John 

And there they went, for Sherlock’s voice, dripping with contempt, rose once more. 

“Anderson… Do you realize that every time you open your mouth, you kill an intelligent being somewhere else? It’s as if every time you even think about thinking, you emit idiocy from every pore…  
\- That’s enough Sherlock.” Intervened Lestrade; calmly placing himself before a livid Anderson and his opponent. That was John's cue, now resigned to these usual interventions.  
\- Come on Sherlock, it’s time to go.” He said, dragging his friend by the arm, as the consultant detective seemed bent on explaining just how useless Anderson’s life was to Sherlock in particular and the world in general. “You know, one of these days, someone is going to shoot you, and that someone is most likely going to be Anderson.

\- Bah! If Anderson’s aim is as effective as his brain, it’s a simple matter of doing nothing and wait for him to fail.” He said contemptuously. “But I think you should invite him over.”

John stopped suddenly. 

“I’m sorry, Sherlock, would you mind repeating that?” Sherlock rolled his eyes. 

\- Is one to be surrounded by blind, fools as well as deaf people?” he grumbled loudly “I need him for a study of mine. I’ve been thinking about doing a research on average minds for some time now; and I need his brainwaves as a low functioning prototype…  
\- Sherlock, be reasonable, I don’t think th…  
\- I already have yours as a medium IQ and mine as a superior one, but…  
\- Wait, what do you mean you already have mine?!  
\- Simply that I attached electrodes to your temples during your sleep of course, how else wo…” Sherlock stopped walking when he realized her had left a dumbfounded and furious Watson ten meters behind. “John? What are…” He turned just on time to see his little friend hail a cab and drive away. 

By the time Sherlock reached 221B Baker Street, Watson was calmly drinking a cup of tea, a newspaper opened on his knees. He also immediately noticed that the clement weather didn’t require the fire to be burning so strongly. 

“And before you ask, yes I did.” John said, folding up the newspaper. “And next time I discover round shapes on my forehead, I’m damned if I’ll believe it’s the new type of Ikea cushions you bought, or whatever. Next time, I’m not just throwing your research in the fire, it’s going to be your electrodes too.” He took a sip of tea; watching Sherlock’s reaction. The detective didn’t seem utterly discomposed, which made Watson suspect he had probably expected this reaction and had hidden a copy somewhere else. Without a word, Sherlock sat on the sofa opposite Watson and put his long spidery fingers before his face, in deep concentration. “Sherlock? Sherlock? What are you thinking?  
\- I have heard that name!” he shouted “Where have I heard that name before ?! It’s going to come to me, it’s going to come to me…” he kept tapping on the floor with his leg “Shut up Watson! Don’t even breathe! Or if you must, stop occupying my oxygen, I need it!  
\- But...what name ?  
\- Ikea! I am sure I have heard about it before! But where? Where? John!” he shouted, pointing a finger to his roommate “Where have you heard it?  
\- I…  
\- Sh! Don’t tell me, don’t tell me. My mind is prodigiously superior to yours, it will come back to me!  
\- But Sh…  
\- This is not possible! MRS. HUDSON ! MRS. HUDSON !” he screamed on top of his lungs.  
\- Sherlock? What’s going on?” They could hear their landlady’s sweet worried voice and then her quick footsteps on top of the stairs. “What is it dear?  
\- Do you know who Ikea is?” he asked accusingly.  
\- Well of course, have you seen the new…  
\- Shut up! You people have been festering my mind with useless information! I need to air it!” and he left, slamming the door violently behind him, under Mrs. Hudson’s and Watson’s bewildered gaze. Extremely puzzled, the old lady turned to Watson.  
\- Oh dear, I never thought I would say this, but I wish the criminality rate hadn’t lowered so much. It is driving our poor boy mad.” Watson threw his newspapers on the table and rubbed his eyes.  
\- Yes, he needs a good case. Next time he might do me a colonoscopy.  
\- I’m sorry dear?” Watson laughed drily.  
\- Nothing.”


	2. The Break-In

His head was pounding rather violently, his mouth was heavy with a pasty feeling to it and a strong aftertaste kept flourishing up. His eyes took some time to adjust and as he struggled to focus his sight, it seemed his other senses bettered too. He heard sounds and sensed a presence by his side. Once more, he tried fighting against the heavy numbness that filled him and his movements seemed to get easier a lot faster. 

“What…what happened?” he asked groggily.  
\- The most marvelous thing John!” cried an ecstatic Sherlock “We have been drugged!” Still confused, Watson tried reassembling his thoughts.  
\- Wh…What? I’m sorry Sherlock; what are you saying exactly?” The consultant detective clapped his hands, thanking forces unknown to him with an enthusiasm that seemed completely inappropriate to his struggling companion.  
\- That someone, someone with daring vigor has infiltrated our humble abode John, but with what purpose? With what purpose, that is what I ask myself!  
\- Well…was, was anything stolen?” asked Watson standing up, trying to marshal some decision as he observed the surroundings. Everything was everywhere, but with Sherlock’s constant boredom, piles of scattered distractions had been laying around for days now and he could hardly remember where everything was as it is. An image flashed through his mind. “Mrs. Hudson! Sherlock, where is Mrs. Hudson?  
\- Mrs. Hu…? Oh right. No, she was not harmed, but drugged as well as the two of us.” He explained; his voice a little bored “After I checked on you, I immediately went downstairs to make sure she…” Watson didn’t let him finish but rushed down the steps to check on their motherly friend. Although Sherlock could dissect for hours on diseases that had not yet been discovered by anyone else but himself, he was seldom to be trusted when confronted with real-life situations. Or at least Doctor Watson liked to think so. 

“Mrs. Hudson, are you all right?” he asked gently, as he knelt by her chair, feeling her pulse.  
\- Yes, yes.” She nodded, a cup of smoking tea left untouched by her side. “But Oh John… this is terrible! This is really terrible!” She squeezed his hand and he patted her shoulder comfortingly.  
\- Don’t worry, I’m sure…” They heard heavy footsteps running down the stairs and Sherlock barged into the familiar scene.  
\- Has the police been called?” asked Mrs. Hudson quickly.  
\- No, no, no… there is no need for the muscles right now Mrs. Hudson.” He sat down, reached for her cup of tea, took a sip and put it back with a grimace “Please, make me a warmer cup, Mrs. Hudson.  
\- Sh…  
\- Now, this is brilliant.” He rubbed his hands against one another, his eyes glinting with the pleasure of the chase and the awakening of his intellect. “Listen to this John, this unknown person has slipped a sleeping-pill in our beverages, probably the tea since it is the only common denominator between the three of us. Yes, it has to be a pill… I would have detected the smell of gas…Yes, a very discreet one, for I would otherwise have discovered the subtle taste of drugs…” he was speaking staring at them without seeing them, lost in his own contemplative dialogue “…So he or she comes in, puts the drugs, waits for them to act, goes upstairs, searches the room and leaves, all this in a matter of minutes…” Watson tried to speak, but so many questions kept bustling in his mind that he had trouble picking one. Military by training, he started rationally, with the most important one :

\- Sherlock, has anything been stolen?  
\- That’s just it, John. That is just it.” He said, enunciating each word clearly.  
\- Well? What have they taken?” The detective locked eyes with his friend.  
\- Nothing.” John blinked.  
\- What do you mean nothing? How can you be sure?  
\- I train myself to memorise every single detail daily. They took nothing.  
\- Then what did they want?  
\- I still think we should call the police.” Insisted Mrs.Hudson, but neither of her tenants listened to her.  
\- That’s just it John! That is the hub of the mystery!” The doctor closed his eyes for a second, his hands on his side, trying to organize his ideas.  
\- First, Mrs.Hudson is right, we have to call Lestrade and…  
\- Mrs.Hudson!” suddenly shouted Sherlock, making the old lady clutch her heart region “Who did you let inside?  
\- No one. I was alone all day, Sherlock, until I brought you your tea at five and…  
\- Did you ever leave the teapot? Think, Mrs.Hudson, think! Was there ever a moment when you left it out of your sight?!  
\- Of course not. I mean, while the water boiled, I did the crosswords, just here.” They threw a look at the crosswords puzzle left distractedly on the side of the table. This time; Sherlock’s face got a little more serious.  
\- Yes, even you wo…” suddenly, he moved his hand right in front of Mrs.Hudson’s nose, then withdrew it just as quickly. “Tell me, how many fingers did you see? Tell me!  
\- I…I don’t…” she threw a scared look at Watson who came to the rescue.  
\- Sherlock, stop it. Whatever you are doing, Mrs. Hudson would have noticed if someone had come inside, even for just a second.” Sherlock didn’t appear convinced but he dropped the matter with a curt :  
\- Yes, her eyesight isn’t that bad.  
\- Sherlock! My eyesight is just fine, thank you very much! Doctor Desyeux told me the other day that for a woman of my age I…  
\- Never mind your eye specialist, where did you buy the tea?” he asked impatiently.  
\- Well, it’s the Lipton as alw…” but he was already up, opening her cupboards and scattering her boxes on the counter. He found the typical English Breakfast box, listened to its noise as he shook it, smelt it and took out one of the tea bags, before throwing it on the table, frustrated. “Sherlock, my kitchen!  
\- Mrs. Hudson, no one minds about your kitchen and it is highly improbable that whoever did this touched the tea before it got inside this house!” And just like that, he left the kitchen and they heard the front door slam. Watson threw his landlady an apologizing look and stepped towards the entrance, nearly posting himself on the receiving end of the door opening again.  
\- Sherlock ! You nearly broke my nose! Wha…” but the door closed again. Less than a second after, it opened once more. “Sherlock, what…” It closed for a third time but as it opened again, this time, Watson blocked it with his foot.  
\- Don’t you understand John?” cried the detective impatiently. “Someone walked in here, with people passing by and no one noticed anything. If you look attentively, the key frame is intact, so someone made a copy… John, do you still have your key?” The doctor looked at the wall and slowly picked up his key, hanging there as always.  
\- What about yours?  
\- Mine?!” Sherlock scoffed “I never have one, I do not need one.” And he grabbed Watson’s key and examined it. “Of course, if they are as meticulous in everything as in this whole scenario, there would not be any traces of it left on your key.” And, uninterested in the object, he threw it on the floor with disregard.  
\- My key …!” complained Watson as he bent to fetch it.  
\- It does not make any sense, John! It…” They heard his mobile phone vibrate and Watson threw him a curious look. “It’s just Mycroft, confirming he had nothing to do with this.” He sneered.  
\- You thought Mycroft…?  
\- When I first woke up, then it became quite obvious this wasn’t the work of our sloppy government. Thank you brother.” He read out loud, as he typed the message while walking up stairs “But I have no wish to keep you, as you term it; “posted”. Now, to serious business.  
\- Wait, Sherlock, I don’t understand, what do these people want?” Sherlock burst out laughing, letting himself fall down on the sofa.  
\- I do not know, John, isn’t this all the more entertaining? Now silence, I need to think. Go and ask Mrs. Hudson for a coffee. Ah, here.” He threw a whole cushion at Watson’s head, who nearly fell over catching it.  
\- Why are…  
\- The cigarettes.” Replied Sherlock curtly, eyes fixing the distant wall. Perplexed, Watson frisked the cushion to discover that the lining was cut, allowing Sherlock to hide his precious stash of nicotine.  
\- You…You cut a hole in the cushion!” complained an exasperated Watson.  
\- Yes, yes, but never mind that.” Replied Sherlock, his concentration clearly elsewhere, as he shooed his friend away with a hand.

Grumbling, the doctor was already half-way down the stairs, wondering how to spare a cardiac arrest to his landlady when she would witness once more the thirst to murder her furniture that Sherlock undeniably felt, when an idea hit him. He gripped the cushion tighter, as if restraining his anger, and walked back up again.

\- Sherlock ! Sherlock?” seeing that his friend ignored his presence completely, he snapped his fingers right in front of Sherlock’s nose, who registered a small movement of impatience.  
\- What is it?  
\- Did you just do another one of your tests on us? Like the one you did in Baskerville?” Sherlock snickered but didn’t comment. “Sherlock, I am serious, is this one of your tests?” The consultant detective, although not quick to grasp human emotions, must have sensed the anger rising in his friend and deigned to answer.  
\- Don’t be ridiculous.” He snapped coldly. “Rather, answer this. Why would they come in and leave everything untouched?” Watson blinked twice, still hesitating whether Sherlock was telling the truth or not. Finally, he sat on the sofa, the cushion still in his hand.  
\- How can you be sure they touched something?” The detective rolled his eyes.  
\- Why else would they come?  
\- Maybe to plant something in.” A quick wolfish smile spread through Sherlock’s pale face.  
\- Very good. But no, I already checked and no cameras nor bugs nor any other devices have been planted.  
\- Well…Then…maybe they just got cocky. They wanted to show us that they could get to us and they did. You’ve been attracting a lot of press lately.” Sherlock put his chin over his fingers, nodding slowly, lost in thought. Watson bent forward as a worrying idea struck him. “Wait, you are not thinking this could be Moriarty?” The clear green eyes slowly moved to the doctor’s concerned face and stared for an instant. John sustained the look, frowning but determined. After a while, he realised those eyes had grown distant, lost in a world of their own. “Look, Sherlock, maybe we should think about calling Lestrade and…” But the detective didn’t answer. His companion waited silently for a reaction, then sighed and walked downstairs, destroyed cushion in his left hand.

 


	3. The Maddening Mystery

The days that followed were a succession bizarre events, strange behavior and odd reactions. Under Mrs.Hudson’s pressing demands, John Watson added a reinforced lock at the entrance, only to be suddenly pinned against the door. Although his reflexes had been dulled by civilian life, his military training made him quicker than most and he had already given Sherlock an impressive elbow blow when Mrs.Hudson came in asking about the noise and thus distracting his attention. This allowed Sherlock to trap Watson on the floor.

“Sherlock!” cried a scandalized Mrs. Hudson.

\- Don’t worry, Mrs.Hudson.” said Sherlock reassuringly as Watson battled like a fish out of water.

\- Sherlock! What are you doing?” shouted a frantic John.

-I am sorry, but I have to make sure.

\- SURE OF WHAT?” The doctor felt his opponent massage the base of the skull. “Sherlock, you either let me go right now or…” As it was, his threat never came into effect because the disappointed detective did let him go.

\- No! No! No!” he shouted, walking up the stairs again in the night-robe he had been wearing for two days now. He banged the door violently behind him, while John slowly massaged his painful arm.

\- Was he looking for an implanted bug?” he asked, too incredulous to actually be angry. Mrs.Hudson simply shook her shoulders.

Sherlock was by then practically living on the corner of the sofa, muttering dark sentences as he tried to find a rational explanation to that extraordinary home-invasion.

“I’m throwing the cats’ eyeballs, all right?” warned Watson for the hundredth time as he opened the fridge.

\- Sure. Put it on the table.” Watson turned around, puzzled.

\- Hum…Sherlock, how long has it been since you’ve been out?

\- Three days Mrs. Hudson, now go away.

-I could be dying in front of you and you would not even notice.” Whispered the doctor, stilldumbfounded by his friend’s self-absorption. However, as he said that, Sherlock suddenly stopped muttering and jumped.

\- Ah ah!” he shouted and before Watson could react, he found himself with a magnifying glass inside his mouth. Spitting, he pushed Sherlock away from him.

\- Sherlock! What the Hell was that?!” The detective threw the magnifying glass on the floor and jumped on the sofa, rolling the night-robe all around him except for his feet.

\- It did not work anyway.” He sounded almost childish as he said that. “But if it’s not a molar implanted transistor, then what is it?” Picking up the magnifying-glass, Watson tried to soothe the detective.

\- Maybe they got the wrong house or changed their plan. Maybe you had something that was of value to them but you do not have it anymore.” Seeing no reaction from his friend, the doctor decided to leave for a healthy walk.

He was walking in the park, enjoying one of those handsome yet cold winter days, when his phone rang.

Glancing at the caller ID, he frowned as he recognized the familiar name.

“Hello Greg. Look, if you need help with a case, I’m sure that Sherlock would…I’m sorry?” He threw an apologizing look at a lady whom he had startled and tried lowering his voice as he hurried back home.

“Yes, no, nothing to worry about, he’s in one of his moods. Sure…Hum…thanks for calling.” As if anything else had been needed to confirm his suspicion, the fluid sound of a violin sonata was indication enough that Sherlock had had one of his brilliant ideas. Mounting the steps two by two, Watson barged into the living-room, almost as if he had a bomb to defuse.

“May I know why you hacked into my blog?” he immediately asked, going straight to where the

computer sat open. The music stopped and Sherlock turned his back to the window, observing his friend’s rapid typing with some amusement.

\- Ah…let me guess…Lestrade? Yes, I thought he might since he’s an avid reader of you blog. By the way, I inserted a link to my own website. If you have to start vulgarizing my achievements, you may at least contextualize them for the common people and…

\- “I know what you were looking for. Let us meet. SH” The doctor raised his eyes from the screen. “What are you doing?” he asked rather dryly.

-Isn’t it obvious?” asked Sherlock, picking up his instrument again for a quick melody. “I am bringing the mountain to us.” Watson raised his palms to the ceiling.

-But you didn’t actually find anything, did you?” Sherlock merely shrugged as an answer. “And what if they do come? Did you tell Lestrade?

-I am quite sure I can count on your good office.

-Sherlock, these could be dangerous people.” Replied John seriously, trying to cover the melody.

Sherlock ignored this remark and kept on playing. Behind him, the doctor shook his head, wondering what to do.


	4. Things Get Worse by Night and Day

“Mrs. Hudson! Mrs. Hudson!” shouted Sherlock at the top of his lungs. Wincing, Watson closed his book.  
-What? What is it?” Sherlock turned his head from the door to the sofa opposite him that his friend was occupying.  
-You are not Mrs.Hudson.” he remarked rather drily. The doctor rolled his eyes.  
-Mrs. Hudson went to her sister’s, remember? She came upstairs with her bag and wished us luck?”

Sherlock scowled, but didn’t reply and merely closed himself up in silence again. The doctor  
observed him for a few seconds. He had finally dressed up, abandoning the now smelly bathrobe for the clean and sober black shirt and trousers. The detective was back in business. Which also meant that Mrs.Hudson was safer away.

-Switch the light off Watson.”

Darkness. Although the curtains had been drawn, enough moonlight filtered through for Watson to perceive the detective’s vigilant shadow. It felt as if hours had passed by but the doctor knew enough about stakeouts not to be deceived by a false passage of time. His body was still on high alert, tensing at the slightest creak. His gun laid next to him and he would sometimes touch it with his hand, as if training his body to react instantly rather than for reassurance. In front of him, the curled head stayed motionless as a cold statue. And minutes passed, with the slowness of hours, bringing with each tick of the clock an increased tension onto their shoulders.

Neither spoke. Outside, the eventual display of a car’s shadow passing by grew less important. They both knew it was the next day.  
“Sherlock, they’re not co...  
-Sh!” Sherlock snapped. John remained silent.

It was finally the sunlight that made him blink, although the pain that seared through the back of his neck was certainly the reason he woke up.

“Aouch...” he grumbled, as he moved his head from right to left, massaging the base of his skull to erase what the uncomfortable armchair had done to his rigid body. As he stood up, the gun slipped onto the floor. He bent to pick it up, yawned as he stretched, and then looked around him, his hair parting up in spikes upon his head. He looked around him.

“Sher...” just as he was about to ask what had become of his friend, the door slammed open and the tall thin figure made its appearance, holding a breakfast tray .

-Good morning Watson!” he exclaimed radiantly “Care for breakfast?” he asked, putting smoky mugs and filled plates onto books and laptops. Watson quickly tried clearing the low coffee table, fearing for the equilibrium of the eggs and bacons the consultant detective had just brought in.  
Sherlock sat opposite him with such a large smile that a crocodile might have been jealous.

-Hu.... what’s all this?” asked Watson, more than a little worried. “Did...did something happen while I was...hum... out?  
-No, nothing at all!” said Sherlock, crunching a piece of bacon before laying down on the couch.  
Watson pinched his hand and grimaced under the pain.  
-Sherlock...where...why...” Sherlock sat down again, throwing his half-chewed bacon back on the plate.  
-We need a fresh perspective, John!” he explained as if it was obvious. “So eat!” The doctor sat down slowly but looked at the food dubiously.  
-Where did you get all this?” he wondered, remembering the last edible nourishment in their fridge was a jar of pickles. Although the picklish forms floating inside it made the doctor very careful about ever opening it one day.  
-Mrs. Hudson’s, of course.” explained the detective, throwing himself back on the sofa again.  
-Mrs...? Sherlock, you can’t just...did you at least leave some money on the counter?  
-Tell me, John” he replied, oblivious to any inconvenience he might have caused “since you have eyes that see very little maybe you can offer a different perspective on chaos. Why aren’t you eating?” he asked abruptly.  
\- Because I have no wish to endure hallucinations again.” he said drily, remembering the one time Sherlock had drugged him to prove a point. But the detective rolled his eyeballs as if his friend had the most senseless notions sometimes and picking up a fork, he speared through the doctor’s crumbled eggs and gaffed them down, washing them with some coffee from John’s mug. After this display of culinary honesty, he stared at the ceiling again. Hesitatingly, the doctor took his first bite.

-So?” asked Sherlock impatiently.  
-Maybe you should let this one go. They could have been trying to rob the neighbours for all we know and got the wrong house.” Sherlock made a “psach” sound as if he was chasing a mosquito.  
-If this were the case, why not rob them now?  
-Maybe they feared we would have called the police and that the neighborhood would be on high alert.  
-Besides” continued Sherlock “how many robbers use sleeping draughts? Someone deserved that much attention and we’re the only ones worth attracting the criminal eye in the street.” The doctor stopped his fork midway, not sure if he should be flattered Sherlock had included him or whether to be happy at being included at all. He put the fork back.  
-What are you going to do?” the detective didn’t reply, but kept staring at the ceiling. “Sherlock? Do we have a plan or...  
\- Shut up and let me think!” snapped his companion, his mood suddenly shifting.

Watson stayed silent, chewing thoughtfully through his breakfast. He had first thought this case would distract Sherlock enough, and in a certain way it had, but if he didn’t find something soon, he would turn as obsessive as he had been bored. The doctor wasn’t sure which state was better, for he had never witnessed Sherlock at a loss. He was stopped in the middle of this contemplation by the bell ringing. He cleaned his mouth quickly with a tissue and stood up, ready to open the door for Mrs. Hudson. As he stepped away from the living-room, he did not see his friend suddenly sitting up, his eyes focused, his muscles tense, his eyebrows lowered. A matter of seconds was all it took. The doctor was already midway as Sherlock’s tingling instincts made him mutter “Mrs.Hudson never forgets the keys. The train from Kent doesn’t reach the station before eleven ten.” The doctor had put his hand on the knob as Sherlock jumped from the sofa. The doctor simultaneously opened the door and turned his head, to witness in the last seconds of consciousness, Sherlock rushing down the stairs, shouting for him to stop.


	5. Do NOT Expect the Unexpected

Lestrade was staring at him in complete silence, as if he could not believe what John Watson was telling him. On the other side of the desk, the doctor was trying to reign in his impatience, but Donovan and Anderson’s sniggers weren’t helping his anxiety. 

“So, you are telling me…” started Lestrade slowly “…that all this began as a joke?” Anderson couldn’t refrain from laughing, but a look from his superior and the doctor’s combined made him try and refrain the glee.  
\- No.” replied Watson firmly, wondering how best to explain the situation. “It wasn’t a joke. He… Sherlock had been growing bored lately and …” he tried to ignore Sally Donovan’s mocking sigh “… No interesting cases were coming in so…well, I thought I’d create one.  
\- So you actually made Sherlock, Sherlock believe that someone had burglarized the apartment? And he actually believed it?  
\- Yes… Although the only thing I had to do was give us all the sleeping drugs.  
\- And Mrs. Hudson…?  
\- She knew everything, of course. I would never… you know … drug a person unexpectedly.” He cleared his voice, feeling uncomfortable. “Anyway, the point is that what happened this afternoon isn’t part of the plan!  
\- Well, how do you know? What if this is him getting back at you? We both know he could do it.” Watson thought back at his friend, rushing down the stairs.  
\- It was time someone tried to trick the nutcase. But abduction, I would go straight to shooting… myself probably.” Sneered agent Donovan. Watson turned to her angrily:  
\- He did believe in it and this has nothing to do with it!  
\- But then why mention it at all, John?” asked the lieutenant seriously. Until then, Watson had remained more or less in control, but now his hands left the armchairs as he bent forward onto the desk.  
\- I think this may be connected with the message Sherlock left on the website. You know the one you called me about.” Lestrade nodded, understanding the reference.  
\- I have what you’ve been looking for.” Yes, and you th…  
\- It was actually a message meant to draw out the thieves who, in fact, do not exist, but I think it got interpreted by the wrong people.  
\- And you’re still certain Sherlock never guessed that you were behind the…  
\- No!” he was starting to get irritated by the lack of belief his story was provoking.  
\- As I said, I’m impr….  
\- Yes, this would have been very impressive if it had not gotten him abducted!” finally exclaimed Watson standing up. The lieutenant made a movement for him to sit down again, but the doctor refused. Finally, he sighed.  
\- All right, I’m coming over and I’m sending a team. Donovan, you’re in charge here.” She nodded while John and the lieutenant left. In the car, Greg asked for more details.  
\- How exactly did you manage not to make him suspect anything?” With a worried frown, the doctor explained:  
\- I knew that he would find me out immediately on the details, so I just had to leave none, which meant… well, to do nothing at all.  
\- And he didn’t suspect a thing? You’re sure of it?  
\- Yes, quite. If he had suspected anything, he would have analysed my acting more attentively.” It was almost a joke but Lestrade just whistled and stayed focused on the traffic. 

Meanwhile, the doctor kept revisiting all that had happened in his head. Opening the door, Sherlock running down, the pain at the back of his neck. He mechanically rubbed it, wincing at the memory of waking up on the cold floor and stumbling upstairs, finding everything thrown around, hailing a cab while he still felt dizzy… On the surface, he was his usual placid self, but inside, he kept reviewing all the cases they had worked on lately, wondering which one related to an object Sherlock might have taken. Apparently, lieutenant Lestrade was following the same reasoning. 

\- The team will help clear the room, do you know of any cases that might attract this kind of attention?” Lestrade turned the wheel on the side of the road.  
\- Not recently.

\- John, what happened?” asked Mrs. Hudson worriedly, as they entered the house. He caught her firmly by the shoulders.  
\- Sherlock is in trouble, but we’ll handle it.  
\- This has nothing to do with…?” she threw a dubious look at the lieutenant.  
\- He knows and no, we don’t think so.” Said Watson as he quickly got up the stairs, in a hurry to begin the search.  
In the mess of thorn cushions, fallen shelves and thrown books, Watson managed to grab the files he had been classifying ever since he had begun working with Sherlock. It helped him write in his blog, besides the fact the detective insisted they always be written on paper. 

“A child can hack in a computer.” he had declared contemptuously before hacking Watson’s bank account just to prove it. This had been followed by a letter from the manager of the bank announcing that they were sorry to inform their client that a hacker had emptied his account and that his insurance should cover the loss in a few months. It had been very tricky to explain that it was all just a bet. The manager still had his nerves rattling about massive cyber-attacks.

So they sat, opposite one another, just where Sherlock had been sitting earlier in the morning, and began opening the recordings Watson had kept. It wasn’t dull work, but mostly it was slow although soon, a list of possible names started forming.  
Later, they divided the tasks in two. Watson would search through the files while the lieutenant began searching for the alibies of the possible suspects. 

Mrs.Hudson came up, with tea and sandwiches, throwing a panicked glance around her. 

Lestrade would shake his head, cross a name off.  
“Thank you for doing this.” Said Watson, a little desperate.  
\- He’s a friend and if you’re right…” he let it die and focused on the next name.  
Watson rubbed his eyes, feeling the exhaustion catching up to him.  
“The team is coming over. Hopefully, they will make some sense of all…this.” He said, showing the room with his hand. “Let’s go grab a bite.” He finally asked, putting his coat on. Watson hesitated, then realised how useless it would be not to. He shrugged but as they got ready to leave, Lestrade stopped him: 

\- Yes, and since they’re coming over, might I suggest you hide any of Sherlock’s drugs?  
\- Right.” Watson looked around him and walked to a glittering painting, which, as Lestrade discovered, only glittered because small particles of cocaine were used to give it lighter colours. Then he bent over and dislodged a piece of wood floor. “And I don’t know the other places.” He shrugged, as if this was completely normal behavior. The lieutenant rolled his eyes and they went downstairs to eat at the small restaurant. They saluted the scientific team on their way down. 

Half an hour later, they were back upstairs, looking through names and searching through the room, trying to understand what could captivate a potential abductor. 

They ordered in when diner time came. The lieutenant still said, tentatively: “Maybe he’s playing you.” But his conviction faltered.  
At one o’clock, Lestrade’s soft snores echoed throughout the messy apartment. Watson was still up, but not searching anymore, just restless. On the previous night, he had fallen asleep because he had known no threat would appear, but he knew how to keep awake throughout the night if need be. He kept looking at his computer, reading Sherlock’s challenge, when suddenly, he was alerted to a message. Frowning, he clicked on the glowing icon. 

“Say it!” shouted a voice. Sherlock’s face occupied the whole space, its pallor accentuated by the spotlight directed onto it. However, the detective merely rolled his eyes.  
\- Don’t, you are not going to shoot me. Are you? Go ahead, but we have already established that previously. So…” at that point, the kidnapper hit him, a violent gash appeared on his cheek. Watson shouted Lestrade’s name, who reacted instantly to the video and called his tech service to trace it back. Sherlock was trying to unhinge his jaw. “And I was expecting someone brilliant after the trick you pulled off the other day, you know? You might as well let me go and I can fetch it myself, be…  
\- Shut up!” Sherlock was hit once again, harder, and Lestrade’s impatience grew proportionately.

\- What do you mean no one’s there?! I know the time, that’s why we have night rounds!” The consultant spit out some blood, but kept taunting his assailant. 

\- Really? Is that all you have? Have you seen me?…  
\- Stop irritating him Sherlock!” cried Watson as his friend stumbled backwards, revealing how powerless he was, tied to a chair.  
\- We have it!” exclaimed Lestrade “Just a few seconds…” But this time, the abductors had had enough and stepped, hidden behind a scarf, in front of the camera.  
\- Bring us what we want, nine pm, on the corner of…” they barely heard the name before the camera was switched off.  
\- Did they…?” asked Watson but the lieutenant shook his head. They stayed silent, contemplating the screen. Then the police officer finally sighed.  
\- I have to report this.” The doctor stood up, fetched his coat and slammed the door as he left for a breath of fresh air.

The streets outside seemed to clear his mind. Everything was covered in an orange hue because of the lamps, and shadows were deformed as he passed. Occasionally, a very rare car rushed by with little noise, indifferent to the general emptiness. The air was brisk, growing colder by the minute. It seemed to add coherence to his confused thoughts. He played the scene over and over.  
“What did he mean?” he kept muttering to himself, certain that Sherlock must have left him a clue. But nothing came to mind and he grew more frustrated, worried and tired. 

He had been walking aimlessly for twenty minutes when he finally sensed the black car’s presence. His heart bit faster and greater clarity chased the exhaustion. He kept walking very straight, his ears echoing every sound. Slowly, hiding his movement under apparent indifference, he went for the back of his trousers. He was unarmed. And so he took a resolution and turned around suddenly, looking straight at the driver. He might as well face to his enemy. The elegant car stopped and, as he suddenly expected her to, a lady holding a cellphone got down. 

“John, would you care to…  
\- Yes, yes, I know.” He said as he got in the car. However, to his surprise, Mycroft was already there, waiting for him.  
\- Good morning, John.” Saluted Mycroft, with his honeyed voice.  
\- Do you have any leads?” immediately asked Watson.  
\- You mean apart from the video they sent you?” The doctor didn’t even bother wondering how news had reached them so fast. He had always supposed his computer to be scrutinized. “No. I expect that whatever message Sherlock chose to send you, must be understood by you alone. To put his fate in your hands, my brother is quite the humanist, don’t you think?” John ignored the veiled sarcasm.  
\- Except he did not send me any message.  
\- Oh, but he most certainly must have. Think, think I encourage you vividly Mr. Watson, or the consequences will be dire.  
\- For me or for him?  
\- I thought they were one of the same.” Replied Mycroft with one of his sly smiles that always made the military man wish to punch a few sly teeth out of that sly mouth. “Oh, here we are. So think, you have until tomorrow…well, until today really” he said, looking at his watch “before I pull my considerable weight.  
\- Why not do it immediately?” cried John angrily.  
\- John, John… my brother would have sent me a message to decode, had he wished for my intervention.  
\- But that…  
\- Goodbye Mr. Watson.” The doctor was too frustrated to comment further and got down the car on Baker Street, throwing a smothering look at the lovely assistant. 

When he reached the second floor, Lestrade had written him a note, informing him that he was going to get a few hours sleep and that at six in the morning, another team of agents would come to help tracking any calls and perusing through the files. Six in the morning. Watson looked at his watch. He might get four hours of sleep.


	6. It Actually Started with a Cushion

He didn’t, of course. Between the time it took for exhaustion to settle over guilt and the numerous occasions guilt woke him by its struggles against exhaustion, it was a very tired and worried Watson who opened the door at six in the morning. Still, the strongest cup of coffee afterwards was very helpful in sharpening his nerves yet soothing his senses. 

“I am very sorry… you know … I mean, I heard… about Sherlock.” He turned towards the squeaky voice and smiled kindly though quickly on Molly.  
\- It’s all right. We will find him.” He said with easy conviction. Easier said than done. He thought with anxiety. Then he saw her redden and silently go back to work. He observed her for a few seconds, considering she had probably volunteered to help since this wasn’t her department. The other two people were meticulously and efficiently going through all the files and the video and taking pictures of the smallest details, leaving the doctor with very little to do. But the caffeine had kicked in. Besides, he would probably have felt the need to help anyways, so he opened his computer and played the video again. Mycroft’s words rattled in his mind. 

“We are done here.” John blinked, as if he had forgotten their presence.  
\- What…what time is it?  
\- Around eleven.” Replied the other after looking at his wristwatch. Surprised, Watson looked at the computer screen.  
\- Hum…yes, sure, go ahead.” They nodded and left.  
\- Call me… if you hear anything.” He heard Molly’s sweet whisper and simply nodded. Once they were gone, he let his back fall heavily against the sofa, sighing loudly and rubbing his eyes. 

“Where are you Sherlock? What did you mean?” he whispered angrily. His eyes were riveted onto his friend’s cut cheek. He shook his head and brought the mug to his lips. “Mrs. Hudson! Mrs.Hudson!” he shouted, when he realised he had already emptied his third cup. She probably had not heard her so he stood up and called from the top of the stairs. “Mrs. Hudson!  
\- Yes, dear, is everything all right?  
\- I have ran out of coffee, would you mind if I borrowed some?  
\- No, of course, dear. I’ll be right up.”  
“Is that…Is that him?” He heard his landlady’s shaky voice and looked back from the spot of humid ceiling he had been unconsciously staring at. Quickly, he made the image of the abduction disappear, and picked up the warm mug she was handing him. “He’s coming back all right and tight, you know that. He always does.” She said encouragingly. He just nodded and she walked away. As she reached the door, she stopped and looked around. 

“By the way, that cushion you had asked me to repair, I also had it washed and don’t you forget to go and pick it up at the cleaner’s all right?” 

Watson felt an electric current coursing through him. Slowly, he put his hand in his pockets and got out the small packs of heroine he had placed there the day before. Quickly, throwing some burning coffee on his sleeves, he picked up his phone with a trembling hand. He tried to contain the excitement as the inspector picked up the line. 

“John? Are there…  
\- Listen, Greg, do you know where Sherlock gets his stashes?  
\- His stashes? What …  
\- His drugs. Do you know who he deals with?  
\- No, no I do not. But… let me check something, and I will call you back.” 

The next hour and a half went by terrible slow in John’s mind. He kept circling the small flat, looking at his watch, sitting down, moving things and finding no interest in anything but the slow ticking of the clock. Finally, his cellphone rang.  
“Good news. After the tip you gave me, I had a hunch and called on narcotics. They think it may be one of the local Southern harbor families. But John, are we thinking Holmes was actually mental enough to steal from them?” The doctor raised one of the plastic bags, wondering what could possibly have gone on in the detective’s mind. 

\- Maybe. What is the plan?  
\- You are going to the meeting.” He did not even flinch “You will be surrounded by my men, don’t worry. Meanwhile, another team led by the narcotics division will surround the complex, make sure they do not harm… the hostage in case things go South.” Watson closed his eyes and nodded.

 


	7. The Deal

He was walking down the street, very straight, being careful to keep staring ahead, in order not to attract attention to any of his protectors. Although, between his military experience and working with Sherlock, he had already come to discover three hidden police officers. He convinced himself the kidnappers had not the same appreciation for detail as he had. Besides, twenty-four hours with Sherlock Holmes, that was hard to handle even for hardened criminals. He tried not to smile, forcing his muscles to relax. There. The big black car. This is London for Christ’s sake not the bloody United States, really inconspicuous! he thought. Then he saw a curly brown head walking down towards him and tensed immediately. Slowly, his hand gripped the gun through his vest. Sherlock neared him, as cool as a cucumber. The doctor tried focusing on every detail, examining in seconds the scene from a military advantage. Then the consultant detective stood right before him, a hand languidly against his body. 

“You there” he said loudly, pointing to one of Lestrade’s agents, reading a newspaper. “Get out of here! 

\- What is he doing?!” exclaimed Lestrade from one of the high-spots he had chosen to observe. 

\- And you too. Really, an old woman?” he exclaimed, exaggerated. 

\- Get put! Get out!” Lestrade ordered in his transmitter. 

\- And a minivan, oh, Scotland Yard!” Sherlock cried out, as if it was a personal outrage. And so a man, a woman and a minivan had to leave the street, while Lestrade, worried and powerless, looked the fiasco through his binoculars. 

\- What are they doing?” 

\- So, do you have it?” asked Sherlock, enunciating his words clearly. Watson simply nodded, never leaving his eyes off Sherlock’s moving finger. 

\- Can you take it?” They locked eyes.


	8. The Rotten Rescue

The gunshot roared in the busy street. 

“All units go back to the corner! Now now now!” screamed Lestrade in his transmitter as he rushed towards the origin of fire. People were screaming and running and instinctively lowering their heads, pushing, scared and uncomprehending. “What was that?!” shouted Lestrade, as he reached Watson with three men, their guns raised protectively. Watson was helping Sherlock get up, his gun still in his right hand. 

“That was a very efficient…” explained Sherlock, taking out a small device from his ear. “…way of ridding our streets of the drug problem.  
\- That was a massive panic spreading through the city!” shouted Lestrade. Sherlock began brushing his back suit, ignoring the lieutenant.  
\- Good shot, Watson.  
\- Thank you.  
\- You two, go check it out.” Ordered Lestrade, pointing to the floor the doctor had aimed at. “What happened? Why on Earth would you tell on our guys like this?  
\- Really, lieutenant, if that is the best at camouflage your men can get to, it is little wonder that…  
\- Sherlock.” Admonished Watson.  
\- All right. I had a transmitter in my ear, I needed to make sure no police was involved, blablabla, the usual petty mindedness of the criminal de bas étage. No art at all.  
\- Why were they after the drugs, Sherlock!” interrupted the lieutenant impatiently.  
\- This?” asked Sherlock, grabbing on of the bags from Watson. “They heard I had synthesized a new cheaper brand of longer lasting effects. Quite the brilliant invention in fact.” For a second, Lestrade and Watson exchanged terrified looks. 

\- And how did they learn of that?  
\- Oh look, one of your men is waving to you! I think you should answer your walkie-talkie.  
\- Sherlock Holmes, do not try to deviate…yes, what?...” he listened to what his officer told him, then turned back to the shooter. “good shot doctor! All right, time to wrap this up!” he said in the transmitter. “Although how I am going to explain all this to the press…  
\- Oh, I doubt you will be left to handle much of this. Come John, let us go before the British government deploys all its blackguarding forces.  
\- Not so fast!” exclaimed Greg “I still do not know how a bunch on drug dealers learnt about your new confection Sherlock!  
\- But I am traumatised lieutenant!” suddenly exclaimed the detective with the voice of a dying duck. “Where is the blanket you always so famously prepare?” even the doctor rolled his eyes at that. “Oh very well!” finally exclaimed the detective. “You would have known about it too if you read my website instead of dedicating those gray cells to doctor Watson’s blogging futilities!  
\- You posted it on your website?!” exclaimed Watson. The consultant shrugged childishly. Lestrade took a deep breath.  
\- I want everyone of your experiments in my office by tonight, is that clear? Or I am having you arrested for drug selling.” This time, the lieutenant’s tone admitted no reply.  
\- You will have them.” John assured him. Lestrade nodded and walked away. 

\- You’ll take advantage of this to make your debriefing.” As they closed up on the throng of curious onlookers, the consultant detective grumbled.  
\- That infernal bureaucracy! If I…  
\- Sherlock, are you all right?” interrupted John.  
\- Yes, yes, if it weren’t for Lestrade and his narrow-minded ideas, I …  
\- Or you could just say thank you for saving your life!” The detective stopped.  
\- Thank you. I would have gotten out of it on my own, but you remain an incredibly good shot. We must compete one of these days!  
\- No, we must not and…  
\- Ah…I see you figured out the clue.” Both their heads snapped towards a man, leaning inconspicuously against a wall, an umbrella on his arm.

\- Might I point out, dear brother, that the streets of England are not what they used to be?” said Sherlock ironically. “And of course he figured it out. A child would have.  
\- A child would, him I was not so sure.  
\- Thank you, he is here you know.” Replied Watson sarcastically. Mycroft looked down upon him.

\- Well, I never figured you for a linguistic, John. After all, Sherlock’s clue would have seemed impenetrable to most. I myself thought that insisting on the beginning of each sentence to form the word DRUGS, especially with the cryptic “Are you?” to form R and U, well, it might have been a tat too obscure. But apparently, you may yet be worth something. 

\- Thank you.” Replied the doctor curtly, deciding that the fact he had not picked up on the clue at all was best kept deeply for himself. Diversion was a perfect military strategy in this case. “If you have known all along, why didn’t you intervene? 

\- I would have eventually.” Sherlock rolled his eyes and mumbled something about power complex. Mycroft merely raised a powerful eyebrow and also seemed to decide that diversion suited his brilliancy. “Well, since you two have created quite a disturbance, one must intervene.” And he walked towards the throng of people, disappearing in it. 

By common tacit agreement, they decided to walk to Baker Street. Sherlock might have been more shaken than he let on, and Watson needed to placate the surge of adrenaline he always felt after a shooting. Which happened more often than he wished for.  
“I must ask Lestrade to interrogate them.

\- Why? Don’t you already know everything about them?” mocked Watson gently. Which of course Sherlock took to be serious.  
\- Just that the leader has cancer and probably doesn’t know it himself. Oh, and that his second in command cheats with his girl, who is also hiding part of his stash, which disappearance caused him to kill his accountant two weeks ago. Nothing capital. No, I need an important information.” Although the doctor was used to it by now, he still contemplated his companion doubtfully.  
\- Brilliant.  
\- Yes, yes, but why, Watson, why?!  
\- Why What?  
\- Why enter the apartment, drug us to finally abduct me?! It makes no sense, why not just threaten us when we woke up?!” Watson coughed.  
\- About that… Would you like some tea, it may take some time.”

 


	9. Epilogue- Watson's Blog (and the Great Sulk)

Watson’s blog.  
Day 21.  
SH. Still pouting. I told him that he had also drugged me once and that it was simple pay back. He does not see it that way. But I am mostly writing to ask you to stop sending congratulatory cards, especially from prison. They seem to have a very dispiriting effect on him. And Mycroft, a free prison jail voucher, is that not a little over the board? And would it actually work? SH. says no and mentioned fratricide. Thought I should mention it.


End file.
